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“Achoo!” Marinette said, sneezing into her arm. Adrien turned around in his school seat and watched her wipe her red nose into a handkerchief she’d probably embroidered herself. Miss Bustier had just dismissed the class, and Adrien was determined to see if he could take care of Marinette.
“Are you okay, Marinette?” the boy asked, placing a hand on her desk.
Alya smiled down at him and Nino. “My girl is sick! You’d better stay away from her, Adrien or you’ll catch it, too!”
“Yup,” Marinette said, sniffling. She wiped her snotty nose again. “I hab a cold.”
“Oh, Dudette,” Nino said, his eyes filling with sympathy. “That sucks.”
“It does,” Adrien said, standing from his seat and picking up his grey bookbag. He didn’t want to be late to his next class, but Marinette… “Hey, would it be all right if I stopped by the bakery with some soup or something?”
Alya squealed, for reasons unknown to Adrien. She placed her fists under her chin and stood up, only to jump up and down. “Say yes, Girl!”
“No!” Marinette said, her eyes filling with unadulterated horror. Clutching her handkerchief in one hand, she wind-milled both of them. “No, no, no, no, I couldn’t possibly impose on you like that, Adrien! You are my home--I mean, you can’t be my home--I mean, you in my home would be terrible!”
Adrien wilted. “Oh,” he said, the corners of his mouth tugging down. He’d thought he and Marinette were friends. She’d told him that he was her good friend. Was he still? Was this about the statue prank at the Grevin Wax Museum? He never should have done that. “If you’re sure…”
“No, no, no, I’m not sure--I mean, yes, I am!” Marinette said, standing from her chair and pressing both of her frantic hands on her desk. “I… What I mean to say is...”
Marinette stopped, and swallowed snot. She looked at him under her lashes, and Adrien felt a curl of hope in his breastbone. “I want you. There. In my house. But I don’t want you to get sick! So, um, thank you, Adrien, for your lov--concern, but I’ll be fine.”
Marinette sneezed again. Alya groaned, placing her fingertips on her forehead just above her nose. “Girl, girl, girl.”
Adrien was going to be late for class. He couldn’t be late; punctuality had been drummed into him from a young age. He smiled shyly at Marinette, and patted her on the shoulder, watching a blush explode on her cheeks. “Okay, Marinette. If you say you’ll be okay, I believe you.”
“We’ve got to go, Dude,” Nino said, and Adrien nodded. They boys started heading off to Miss Mendeleiv’s physics class.
“Ummm, thanks!” Marinette called after his retreating form. He heard her sniffle loudly. “You’re scandalous--I mean awesome!”
Adrien couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the day. All throughout physics, he doodled stick figures with pigtails in his sketchbook. Marinette, Marinette, Marinette, he thought, looking at his distinct lack of notes. What am I going to do with you?
He didn’t want to admit to himself how upset he was about her not letting him visit. If he could have taken care of her--if he could have been useful to her somehow--maybe she’d be his friend again. He knew no one would like him unless he was useful to them.
Adrien had been bred with good manners. From a young age, he was instructed to be courteous and deferential to other people’s wishes. He was too polite to just barge into a lady’s house, even if it was to help her.
But… Chat, on the other hand… had no such compunction, Adrien slowly realized. His pencil went skittering off the page and made a mark on the desk. Chat could bring Marinette soup.
Adrien rapidly formed a plan. He could stop by his favorite Chinese restaurant and pick up spicy egg drop soup. He’d make it himself for Marinette, but he’d never cooked before. He didn’t even know if soup could be burned, but with his luck, he’d be the first to burn some. He was the poster boy for bad luck, after all.
The plan was turning out to be a good one. After he’d acquired the soup, he could stop by Marinette’s and insist on giving the salty broth to her.
Then Adrien’s planning came to a screeching halt.
Chat hadn’t visited Marinette since the Weredad fiasco. Her father being akumatized over Chat’s reaction was over the top, and frankly, still a little scary. Chat didn’t know if he’d be welcomed at the bakery.
But he wasn’t going to the bakery. He was going to her room, via her balcony. Chat didn’t have to see her dad at all.
Would he be welcome in her room, though? Chat wondered. She’d told him she loved him. That made him slightly uncomfortable; while he’d never had a girl love him before, Marinette was just a friend. A good friend, but Chat didn’t return her affections.
Still. He could bring her soup.
Now all he had to do was get through the school day.
***
Acquiring the soup was easy.
Pole-vaulting across the city with it was not.
Should have asked for a bag, Chat thought, the foam container tucked under his arm. He was terrified of crushing it and spilling the hot, yellow contents all over some unsuspecting Parisian.
By the time Marinette’s balcony was in sight, Chat’s arms were stiff from holding the awkward position. He breathed a sigh of relief as he landed on the patio with a rubbery thump.
To his surprise, the skylight popped open shortly after he’d landed. “Chat?” Marinette said, with a long sniff. “What are you doing here?”
“Greetings, my Princess!” Chat said, and immediately regretted it. Would that be leading her on? He soldiered forth, throwing caution to the wind. He was Chat, after all. He was invincible. “Well, greetings, anyway. I bring sustenance!”
Marinette sneezed. She climbed out onto the balcony, and Chat was shocked to realize she was wearing her cute, pink pajamas. Wasn’t it just yesterday that she’d gone to the movies with Adrien in them? She’d looked cute then, too, though he’d been more focused on seeing his mother one last time.
“Sustenance?” Marinette said, smoothing a hand over her hair. She’d obviously been lying down, and possibly tossing and turning; her pigtails were coming loose, with strands of hair sticking out from the red bands. “What?”
“Spicy egg drop soup!” Chat said, beaming at her. He replaced his baton on his back and held out the container, which was only slightly crushed. “I would have brought you crab puffs, too, but I didn’t know if you liked them.”
Marinette found her handkerchief in her pocket and blew her nose. “I love crab puffs,” she said, stepping closer to him on the balcony. Then she jumped away. “But no! I hab a cold! You can’t be here, you’ll get sick!”
“Superheroes don’t get sick,” Chat said, lying through his straight, white teeth. He grinned at her skeptical look. “C’mon, Princess, just try the soup. Please? For me?”
Marinette threw her head back and groaned. Chat noted how pretty the column of her exposed neck was. She had one freckle on her collarbone, but other than that her skin was flawless. “Okay, fine. But you’re leaving as soon as I drink it all.”
Chat purred. “Absolutely pawsitively. I wouldn’t dream of imposing.”
Marinette grumbled as she took the container of soup. “You’re already imposing.”
Chat’s ears flattened against his head. “Should I… uh… Should I go?”
Marinette gave him a long look. “No,” she said. “You came all this way to watch me eat, I might as well indulge you.”
Chat was back to beaming at her. She climbed back onto her bed, and he waited until she was off the mattress and on the stairs before following her. “So tell me, Princess,” he said, dying of curiosity. He was a cat, after all. “Who gave you the cold?”
Marinette sniffled. She crossed to the desk and set the container of soup down onto it. “Manon, a girl I babysit. Apparently she came down with a cold one day before I did, so I probably caught it from her.”
“I didn’t know you babysat,” Chat said, crouching down on all fours and resting his paws on the ground.
Marinette sat at her desk with hunched shoulders, and peeled off the tape sticking a spoon to the top of the container. Instead of opening the plastic top, she reached for her handkerchief and sneezed. “Guh. Yes, I babysit.”
“What else do you do?” Chat said, wishing he could curl his body around her legs. She might pet him then. “You seem so stressed all the time. You must be busy.”
Marinette peered at him. “I seem stressed?”
“Yes?” Chat said, shrugging while keeping his palms pressed to the floor. “Look at the way you’re sitting. Your shoulders are up around your ears.”
Marinette immediately straightened them. “That’s just how I sit, Chat.”
Chat pouted. “That’s how a stressed person sits.”
She gave him a measured look. “You’re really set on my being stressed and busy. Why is that?”
Chat sighed. His tail curled around his ankle. “It just seems like a girl like you--”
“A girl like me?”
“--would have a lot of things on her plate, that’s all,” Chat finished, ignoring the raised brow and the interruption.
Marinette sneezed again, and fussed with the container. “I guess I do. I’m the class rep at school. And there’s school itself. And I babysit, and I make costumes for Kitty Section--that’s a band--and I design clothes and do digital paintings and take photographs and run a website for my designs and…” She hesitated. “And there’s one other thing I do.”
Chat held up his hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, that’s too much for one girl to handle,” he said, shaking his head. “No wonder you’re sick. You must never sleep.”
Marinette dipped her spoon into the soup and put it into her mouth. She swallowed. “Guh. From what I can taste, the soup is good, but not as good as my mom’s. Thanks, Chat.”
“You’re welcome,” Chat said, inching closer to her chair. “What’s the other thing you do?”
“Pardon?”
A piece was missing from Chat’s picture of Marinette. He sensed a puzzle here. He wanted to pull on the loose thread until the tapestry unraveled at his feet. “What,” he said, infinitely patient, or as much as he could be, anyway, “is the other thing you do?”
Rather than answering him right away, Marinette wiped her nose. She picked up the soup container and drained half of it.
Uh-oh, Chat thought. She must want me out of here. The thought made him sad. Had he overstepped? Was he imposing? Guilt stabbed at him. His head drooped.
“Chat,” Marinette said, fixing him with an odd, faraway look. “You have to promise not to tell anyone.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Chat said, performing the motion over his chest.
“I… I have… Salad in my life.”
That was not what he expected her to say. “You have a what now?”
Marinette shook her head, and then seemed to regret that, because she held her temples. “Salad. It’s… a codeword for secrets I can’t tell anyone.”
Chat leaned forward, his tail curling. “You can trust me.”
“I know I can,” Marinette said immediately, and once again, Chat was surprised by the girl sitting in front of him. “But not with this.”
Chat felt strangely disappointed. As if he’d missed out on something huge, something irrevocable. “Please?” he said, hating the meek way his voice sounded in his ears. “I won’t tell anyone.”
Marinette stared at him. From the expressions flickering across her face, she seemed to come to a decision. She sniffled again. “You really want to know?”
Chat never wanted to know anything more in his entire life. His curiosity wasn’t just a flame, it was a raging inferno, consuming his every last thought. “Yes,” he whispered. “Please.”
Marinette crooked her finger at him. He scooted closer to her, raising up on his knees. He placed his hands on the armrests of her chair, and leaned forward until they were nose to nose. “I,” she said, and his breath caught in his throat. “... play video games.”
Chat laughed. His claws found his belly, and he leaned back, afraid he might get sick from breathing the same air as her. “That’s your big secret? There’s nothing wrong with girls playing video games!”
She smiled sweetly at him, and picked up the soup. To his horror, she drained the rest of it, and held the empty foam container up for his inspection. Her cheeks bulged with liquid. He thought it was weirdly adorable.
But now Chat had to leave. He’d promised.
He didn’t want to go. Chat pouted at her again, folding his arms. “No fair,” he said. “You were supposed to slow down and enjoy it.”
Marinette swallowed with an audible gulp. “Fair’s fair, Chat. I never said how fast I’d eat. Just that you had to be gone after I finished,” she said, and waved her hand dismissively. “Scat, cat.”
Chat sulked. He circled her desk chair on all fours, prowling around her for a moment, like he’d wanted to. Then he stood, and reached for his baton. “Farewell, my Princess. Sleep well, and stay hydrated.”
Marinette beamed at him, causing his heart to flutter in his chest. “Thanks for the soup, Chat. That was really sweet.”
Why couldn’t Adrien have brought you soup, Marinette? Chat wondered, brutally squashing the bitterness that rose up inside him before it infected his mood. Adrien could have been sweet.
Chat bowed, one hand thrown behind him and the other on his chest. “Take care.”
“Don’t get sick,” Marinette said, but she was already turning to her sketchbook, picking up a chunk of charcoal.
“I won’t,” Chat said, winking at the girl, who probably didn’t even catch the gesture. “Superheroes never get sick.”
She snorted, and smiled. He saw himself out.
The next day, Adrien felt a tickle in his throat. He was unusually exhausted, but he chalked that up to the late night akuma Hawkmoth had thrown at him and Ladybug.
The day after that, Adrien rested in his bed, sneezing and wiping his runny nose. He was running a low-grade fever, and Nathalie allowed him to stay home from school. He missed Marinette, Nino, and Alya--but especially Marinette.
Plagg had the unmitigated gall to laugh at him. “Superheroes don’t get sick!” the kwami said, cackling as he dodged a crumpled up tissue Adrien threw at him. “What a riot.”
“Plagg, you’re not helping,” Adrien said, grousing.
“Your girlfriend--”
“Not my girlfriend, Plagg.”
“--is probably better by now,” the kwami said, offering Adrien a fanged grin. “Was bringing her soup worth it?”
Adrien felt objectively terrible. But he’d learned a lot about his friend. His good friend. And maybe he could play video games with her again--something he hadn't learned at the time, but he was glad she trusted him with her secret. Maybe, just maybe, she’d let Adrien in.
He smiled up at Plagg. “Absolutely pawsitively.”